Ad Lib
by TheDonutMistress
Summary: Alyssa tries to convince herself she wouldn't be caught dead near Kevin Ryman nowadays if it wasn't business. Luckily, it is, so she doesn't have to answer to him for it just yet. Or herself. Set sometime after 2012, per an in-fic reference. Because. Alyssa/Kevin if you squint. Or maybe it's wishful thinking on my part. And Alyssa's, not that she'd ever admit it.


**Have more Outbreak nonsense, because Kevin Ryman is my spirit animal.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, but would let Kevin ravish me if he was real.**

**Summary: Alyssa tries to convince herself she wouldn't be caught dead near Kevin Ryman nowadays if it wasn't business. Luckily, it is, so she doesn't have to answer to him for it just yet. Or herself. Set sometime after 2012, per an in-fic reference Kevin won't quit with. Because. ****You can call it Kevin/Alyssa if you want. I do ship them.**

* * *

They're in a bar in the middle of the day. Well, that's oddly fitting, Alyssa thinks. She orders a white wine and tells herself she'll write it off as a business expense. Kevin's already arrived and is sipping at something clear in a highball glass.

Alyssa can only guess with him, and not just when it comes to his drinking. Mostly how he gets through the day like that. Then again, she figures that's _exactly_ how he gets through the day.

It's how they all got through Raccoon City, after all.

No, not three sheets to the wind. Just... broken, and using everything but glue to hold their pieces together and pretending to be surprised when things kept falling apart.

Kevin chuckles, and opens with, "I ever need a kidney, I'm calling you."

Alyssa rolls her eyes, reply at the ready. "I'll remember that so I can send you straight to voicemail."

"Come on, Alyssa. We both know that's not true."

Alyssa raises an eyebrow.

"I'm gonna need a new liver way before a kidney, right?"

Alyssa smirks, despite herself. She'd appreciate that sharp tongue in most people.

Kevin's not most people, though.

He twirls his wrist, just so. The pen in his hand—_her pen, thanks_—dances above the paper in front of him. Also hers. "So, what am I signing again?"

"Your soul over to me. Get on with it. We went over all of this on the phone."

"Right, right. Just wanna make sure there isn't anything funny in the fine print, you know?"

Annoyed with the dawdling, Alyssa reminds Kevin, "And you said you were perfectly agreeable to everything."

"I was. I am."

"Then get on with it," Alyssa huffs. "I wouldn't have come all the way here if you weren't okay with the terms."

"Totally one hundred percent okay with the terms." Kevin touches the pen to the paper. Then lifts it before signing. "Except—"

Alyssa's gritting her teeth. "Kevin."

"Should this little book of yours ever become a movie, I absolutely insist that Channing Tatum play me."

"Get real." Alyssa laughs. It's genuine laughter, and she's a little annoyed he managed to crack her.

Kevin's dead serious when he asks, "Have you _seen_ Magic Mike?"

"Have _you_?" Less amused than a moment before, Alyssa rubs at her temples and asks, "Did you even read the manuscript?"

"Honey, I _lived_ it."

Fifteen years ago Alyssa would've snapped, _'Don't call me Honey.' _She would've thrown something like, _'Officer 90 Proof,' _on the end of it, too.

Instead, she just sips her wine and says, "Gonna take that as a no."

"So, what stop am I?" Kevin asks, suddenly. He glances down at his drink. Nearly empty.

"I beg your pardon?" Alyssa asks. She really doesn't know what he means.

"How many souls have you collected, Faust?"

"Faust was the one who signed his soul away."

Kevin rolls his eyes. He's about as keen on being corrected as Alyssa is. Somehow, she likes that about him.

She shrugs. "You're the first." She's not sure why she's admitting that. She's one hundred percent sure the wine is why she's adding, "And only."

Kevin tries to smirk and ends up smiling. Alyssa tries not to look and ends up staring.

"Oh really?"

"It's no big deal."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"You see, there's this thing called the internet." Alyssa pauses, purposefully. Looks at Kevin like he's an idiot.

He plays along.

It's just like old times.

Minus the death, and _un_death.

"I'm quite familiar with the wonders of the internet." Kevin winks.

Alyssa exaggerates a gag. "Everyone else emailed or faxed me back, you jackass."

"_Uh huh_."

"You said you were coming up this way to see your friend. Leon, right? It made sense to me. Two birds with one stone." Alyssa downs the rest of her drink just to shut herself up. It doesn't work for long. She flicks her wrist in an attempt to look breezy.

"You know," Kevin begins. He looks oddly distant, suddenly. "When it _does_ get made into a movie, everyone's totally gonna be pushing for someone to hook up. I vote me."

Alyssa tries to look appropriately offended. Then she offers, "I'll see if _David's_ agreeable to that."

Kevin doesn't miss a beat, though. "Who's gonna be playing him?"

"What the hell does that even matter? There's no movie—"

There's no movie, and there's not going to be a movie, because it's a wonder there's even going to be a book. And it's a wonder there's even going to be a book, because it's a wonder they're all alive after what they went through. They were a damn small group, and they squeezed through a narrow ass window. That it's been 15 years doesn't make the gravity of it all _pull_ any less.

Kevin just insists, "Not fuckin' no fuggos. Put that in the contract."

Alyssa grabs for Kevin's glass. How the hell hasn't he been cut off yet? Sniffs at it.

It's _water_.

Which means _this is just his personality._

And he's maybe actually _finally _got a lid on his drinking?

Alyssa's not sure how to feel about either of these things. Mainly, if the good of one outweighs the bad of the other. That Kevin Ryman is just as big a pain in the ass sober as he is drunk, but maybe he's at least spending less time drunk nowadays.

She doesn't mean to be so shrewd. He just brings it out in her, swear. "Would you just sign it already? Or _not sign it_ so I can leave, and go—"

Rewrite how she survived the zombie apocalypse without him.

_Imagine_ how she survived the zombie apocalypse without him.

Only, Alyssa can't, and she knows it.

Does Kevin, though?

Should he?

He should, but—

He's insufferable enough as it is. But he's also _suffered_ plenty.

Kevin groans, and plays it being terribly offended. "Geez. I'd expect this if it was divorce papers or something."

"I'd marry you just to divorce you," Alyssa mutters.

Kevin laughs. He signs the papers. Holds out Alyssa's pen like some kind of peace offering.

Alyssa triple-clicks her pen after taking it back from him, and equally pointlessly shuffles the contract, before hastily stuffing the papers into her laptop case.

Then she digs into her purse. The waitress'll get her money whenever she deigns to come by again. Probably heard her and Kevin bickering and _does_ think they're a couple on the way to divorce court. _Hell._

Kevin knows what Alyssa's trying to do—buy her way out of the awkwardness—and puts a hand over hers. "It's on me."

Alyssa insists, "I can afford a glass of shitty house wine, thanks."

Kevin's equally quick with, "You can afford way better. Not the point."

"Then...?"

"_It's on me."_ Then he's quiet a moment, and it's dangerous. He's aiming for serious when he finally offers, "And I read it."

Well, of course he read the book. Although, Alyssa _technically_ didn't know if he had until just now. She _trusted_ he had. He never said anything about the content. But _no one who was there_ did. They didn't need to. Kevin's no exception.

Only, he is.

Alyssa smirks. But something about Kevin's words mean more than just he gave it the cover-to-cover. He's saying he approves. It means more than she realized.

"For real, though." Sober's such a weird word to use when it comes to Kevin, but damn if it doesn't fit his tone. "Can't have been easy to _write._"

"It wasn't," Alyssa admits. She adds, "But it also was. I don't know."

"Well, you did good." Kevin suddenly calls out, "Alyssa?" and there's something almost like vulnerability in his voice, too.

She studies his face, curious, but wary.

He just points a finger, _once, twice_, to punctuate his words. _"Channing. Tatum."_

"And who should play me, huh?" Alyssa asks, suddenly, and for no other reason than to hear what the hell Kevin responds with.

"_Huh_. I hadn't thought about that."

_Good_. It's too sweet a victory to last, but hell if Alyssa isn't gonna savor the shit out of it before it sours. She knows all too well, it's like the taste of that single glass of wine she chugged when she was so sure Kevin was getting bombed right across from her. Accessible, just good enough, and with an aftertaste to remind her she wants more, while she tries to convince herself she doesn't.

Still, she's able to tell Kevin, "You should."

* * *

**Set after 2012 because that's when Magic Mike came out. Trust me, I know. I saw that beefcake on the big screen. Meow. I also had my car totaled on the way back from the theatre and the firemen that responded to the accident joked with me when they found out that's what movie I'd come from. 'Tis seared into my memory.**


End file.
